


Pining for Silver and Gold

by Halfblood_Fiend



Series: Star Trek 2020 Filled Bingos [7]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halfblood_Fiend/pseuds/Halfblood_Fiend
Summary: Ensign Vorik has trouble putting the Voyager's current predicament into words and reflects upon the specific event that is giving him trouble. Obviously, all his crewmates falling ill is a bad thing, but as the Human idiom goes: Even thorns have roses.
Relationships: Vorik/Original Female Character
Series: Star Trek 2020 Filled Bingos [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904971
Kudos: 7
Collections: Star Trek Bingo Summer 2020





	Pining for Silver and Gold

**Author's Note:**

> For the Star Trek Bingo 2020:  
> Horizontal Prompt 2
> 
> Sex Pollen/Alien Plants

“Acting Chief Engineer's Log, Ensign Vorik. Stardate 48568.2.

“Ever since the away team returned from Delta Planet thirty-eight, the crew had begun acting peculiar and more… interpersonal than usual. When I had noticed, I voiced my concern to Crewman Moreno, and she agreed. The most notable Engineering incident had involved Tom Paris and Lieutenant Torres. They had been engaging each other more often and with more ferocity than usual, eventually culminating in a rather public display of affection in the middle of the engineering corridor. Similar occurrences soon began happening all over the ship.

“So far, this unknown ailment appears to affect Humans the most intensely, though it bears noting that Lieutenant Torres’ Klingon blood did not assist her in escaping her fate. Other species on board the ship appear resistant… until a Human partner engages with them.”

Vorik paused and considered briefly how to voice the sense of discomfort that lodged itself in his brain. “It is unclear how entirely consensual these incidences are.” This verbiage did not quite assuage his unease, but Vorik decided that in the interest of protecting the integrity of his crewmates, he would keep his assessment vague. In the somewhat probable case this log was used to pass judgment on those individuals at later date, he could clarify on a case by case basis.

In light of his own experience…

Vorik shook his head, took a sip of his tea, and continued his log. “The only individuals who remained completely unaffected were Lieutenant Tuvok, myself, and the EMH, for reasons that should be obvious. It was our speculation that our superior ability to inhibit our emotions is what kept us unaffected, suggesting that the illness is most likely based in the limbic system. As of yet, this is only a hypothesis. Further study will be required. The Doctor assessed all the flora collected from DP-38, including the single flower that Neelix had left Kes’ quarters. Something in one of those plants is most likely responsible for our current predicament.

“While the crew, at large, has been confined to their quarters, Crewman Moreno had been invaluable to me. The mysterious nature of her arrival in this universe and her corresponding removal from our timeline seems to protect her from many of the negative aspects of life aboard the ship. It has kept her uniquely separated from many shipwright afflictions and continued to do so. She and I, alone, maintained Engineering and the entirely critical functions, however—”

Pausing again, Vorik tapped on the edge of his PADD and ran his tongue over the back of his teeth.

“Computer, erase that last word.”

An affirming _ping_ emitted from the device.

Prudence—and his own conscience—demanded that he document this latest event as concisely as possible.

“Crewman Moreno’s usual immunity is what made me particularly concerned when she did not report for duty at 0700 to relieve me from my overnight shift. It would not have been an illogical hypothesis to believe that another crew member may have forced their way into her quarters in order to—”

Vorik closed his eyes and shook his head.

The details of this report were turning too personal. He found he was attempting to justify his actions. For what? In the hopes that they could be reconciled against what happened next? They were excuses. It was poor personal judgment and… _feeling_ , Vorik admitted with disdain, that had led him to abandon his crucial post in order to look for Giana physically, instead of merely contacting her by comm. Vorik could go on about not wanting to warn a potential imaginary attacker, but he knew good and well that it was protective jealousy and fear that had made him rush from the Engine Room when she still hadn't arrived after 20 minutes.

Shameful as that was to admit.

“Computer. Delete last line,” he said, then he continued, “I deserted my post, believing the threat to the Crewman to be more dire than any posed by an empty Engineering Room. Perhaps a miscalculation on my part, as Crewman Moreno proved to be in no danger. Computer, revise: Cadet Moreno proved to be in no _physical_ danger.”

He waited until the PADD pinged to affirm that the directed change had been made before continuing, “However, for some reason as yet unbeknownst to us, Giana had succumbed to the illness brought on by the alien fauna. When I arrived at her quarters, she—” His words faltered for a moment. “She… Computer, pause recording.”

Very suddenly, tightness wound around Vorik's chest. His heart rate and breathing had accelerated by more than 12% of their regular rates. It was a frustratingly similar experience to his body's first reaction to seeing Giana step out on the Engineering Room floor many months ago. Even after a great deal of effort and a more rigorous mediation routine, the feeling in her presence still had not entirely diminished, but with work, he had made it manageable.

But now…

He touched his lips with his fingers.

Now, the feeling returned with an undeniable vengeance.

* * *

Vorik hadn't waited for her to answer her door. For the first time, he used the lock override passcode Giana had given him a month and a half previously. Vorik had always preferred for her to let him inside her quarters, even when he was expected. Today, necessity made him break his usual etiquette.

Inside was chaos. Uniforms and civilian clothes were scattered across the furniture. Many pairs of boots were strewn over the floor.

Vorik drew his hand phaser and stepped into the room.

To his surprise, Giana appeared, red-faced and out of breath, in the doorway to her separated bedroom.

“Oh, fuck. Vorik? What are you doing here?”

A puzzling response, considering that she should have known that she was scheduled to be in Engineering.

But he didn't have time to make a proper inquiry before they both realized that she was only wearing her underthings.

Giana squeaked and retreated back into her bedroom. Vorik clenched his jaw and will his ears not to turn green. He knew what Human females looked like. There was no reason for his pulse to jump to his throat the way it did.

Then an ugly thought occurred to him: had he caught her in the act that so many others had taken to doing in the halls? Was there another Human beyond that doorway? Just the thought made him sick to his stomach.

He took deep breaths to steady himself. To steel his mind.

He was reacting poorly to something that should have been inevitable, and yet he approached the situation as though he was unprepared for it.

Vorik quickly blamed it on his sleeplessness and the long but necessary shifts.

Giana returned, cinching a robe closed around her waist. Vorik waited for her to explain herself, but she merely looked back at him. He counted his breaths, six, before he spoke:

“Well?”

“So—”

They spoke at the same time and stopped at the same time. Giana smiled to herself and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“You first,” she said softly, peering up at him through her eyelashes.

“You did not report to your shift,” Vorik said shortly, focusing very hard on looking into her eyes and not at her fingers playing with the satin hem just beneath her collarbone. “Are you currently—” he gulped, grasping for a better way to ask, and came up with nothing, “—indisposed?” Her brow knit, so he clarified as best as he could without seeming…too invested, “As the rest of the crew is, currently.”

“Oh! No! Vorik… _no._ I-I’m not. I’m a-alone here.”

She smiled and a weight that Vorik had not wanted to acknowledge lifted from his shoulders. Giana was fine. And she was alone. It was very illogical for him to be so relieved, but he had long ago learned to embrace his fallacy as far as Giana was concerned. He merely reminded himself to keep his breathing steady and slow, and nodded.

“Then why have you not reported to Engineering?”

Her face fell, and she blushed in the way Humans so often did. “Oh. Umm. Well… I… I sort of couldn’t find anything to wear.” She gestured vauguely to the messy room.

Vorik didn’t understand.

“Is there a problem with all of your uniforms?”

Giana wrinkled her nose and picked up the nearest one from where it was slung across the dining table. “Yeah. I look _awful_ in that shade of yellow. These uniforms aren’t cute at all!”

Vorik blinked at her, sure he wasn’t hearing right. In a moment, her face would clear and she would laugh at him, accusing him of being so serious all the time. She might grin, maybe she would strike his arm too, but she would call it—what did she like to say? —a _goof?_

This being an increasingly poorly timed joke was all that made moderate sense to him. He would have to remember to admonish her for it at a later date.

Only she gave no indication that this was “just a goof.” She kept frowning down at the uniform, stretching the fabric between her fingers.

He cleared his throat. “It is quite unnecessary to be ‘cute’ while maintaining the warp core,” he said slowly, gauging her reaction.

Her head snapped up at the words. She appeared…offended. “ _What?_ That’s blasphemy, man! You _always_ need to be cute! Especially when you’re working with—” Giana choked off with a hard blush and returned her attention to the uniform in her hands.

“When you’re working with?”

But she shook her head.

_She is acting strangely,_ Vorik decided. Stranger than usual, and given the current state of the crew, he concluded that it was time to assume Giana had been compromised as well. Even if she was not acting in a way consistent with the others.

Vorik surreptitiously changed out his hand phaser for his PADD.

He would take notes. He would inform the Doctor and Lieutenant Tuvok. He would have to work out a different means for maintaining Engineering. This time, alone. He was already pushing the edge of his limits, but he would simply have to make do.

“What’re you doing?”

He glanced at her but didn’t stop typing commands. “I am placing you under house arrest and informing Lieutenant Tuvok of my decision.”

“What!? _Why?_ I’m the _only other engineer!_ You need me!”

“Perhaps. But not in your current condition. I shall have to adapt accordingly.”

_Somehow._

“But I’m fine!” Giana cried, clearly on the cusp of hysterics.

Vorik had to admit that he was losing some patience at the rise in decibels of her voice. He gestured around her messy room. “Does _this_ appear ‘fine’ to you? This is out of the ordinary and must be documented.”

She bit her lip and Vorik’s heart panged for her. Just a little. He wished there was something he could have done, but there was nothing. There was no cure yet. Even though she did not act the same as the rest of the crew, it was always going to be wiser to err on the side of caution in a situation no one understood.

_I am in the right._

Giana shook her head and took a deep, steadying breath. “You need me Vorik,” she said finally, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Look at you. How do you feel? Because you _look_ exhausted.”

It was true. The Doctor had called Giana on an errand late last night, so Vorik had pulled a far longer shift than he should have. Still manageable, for his Vulcan capacity, but calculated precisely to be only just so. At her words, he could feel the deep ache in his bones, the itchy tiredness in his eyes. Walking meditations throughout the night in between checking the engineering consoles had been barely enough to keep him on his feet, but Vorik knew good and well that this level of productivity was unsustainable.

“I am fine,” he said, in direct contradiction to his thoughts.

She smiled. “You don’t appear fine,” she said, edging closer to him. “Let me help you. I was supposed to be in Engineering at 7. I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know what all… _this_ …is, but I _do feel_ _okay_ … I don’t think I have what everyone else has. I just… I dunno. We can figure it out later. But now, I want to help you. I _need_ to help you. I—”

For the second time, she choked herself off and averted her gaze. Vorik wondered why that was. What was she so close to saying and then could not?

“I’ll fix this,” she murmured. “I’ll just get dressed in my uniform and you can go get some rest. I don’t… I don’t know what came over me.”

Vorik didn’t answer her, but neither did he stop her from collecting the rest of her uniform from the table and her boots from the floor. When she had disappeared back into her bedroom, he pressed the badge on his chest.

“Ensign Vorik to Lieutenant Tuvok,” he said quietly.

“Go ahead, Ensign,” replied an equally weary Lieutenant from the communicator.

“Crewman Moreno is beginning to act strangely. I believe I should place her under house arrest. Though her behavior may also warrant taking her to the sickbay.”

“Strangely how? Dissimilar to the other symptoms we have observed?”

“So far as I can tell, she is merely irrational. She has yet to—”

“Vorik?”

He tapped his badge and cut the line of communication before Giana came around the corner. She appeared fine now. Her usual self as she reached back to pull all her violet hair into a ponytail high on the back of her head.

“I really am sorry,” she was saying around the bobby pins in her mouth. “I didn’t mean to cause a fuss and I don’t know what the _fuck_ got into me about the uniform not being cute. Makes no sense. But, like, seriously. This yellow really _isn’t_ my color. Right?”

She finished pinning her bangs and held her arms out, a small smile on her lips.

Vorik shook his head, not quite understanding. A color couldn’t belong to anyone. “It is standard issue…?”

“Nevermind. ’Course it is. You’re right. As you always are.”

His reply was somewhat automatic, from the months of jest. “I will not let it go to my head.”

Her return grin was genuine and bright.

Until Tuvok’s voice crackled over his communicator. “Ensign? Are you alright? Ensign Vorik? What is the status of Crewman Moreno?”

Vorik tapped his badge to answer, “I am still evaluating, sir,” and tapped it again.

He was curious to see if she would really perform as usual; she had appeared to regain her functionality. Her apparent symptoms didn’t match the others’. _If there was another affliction_ , Vorik reasoned, _I should document it_. Therefore, he justified waiting…

But Giana’s face fell instantly. “You told Tuvok.”

“It is my duty as Acting Chief Engineer to report your behavior,” Vorik replied simply, though he was uncertain of why he felt compelled to defend his actions.

“What about your duty as my friend?”

Something like guilt welled up in his body. He observed the churning in his stomach and the increase in his heart rate with quiet fascination. How strange it was for him to feel this way about his duty, one that he had performed several times as each crewmate fell ill. Was the difference only that the person he was reporting now was Giana?

She closed her eyes and turned away from him. Vorik watched her take a deep steadying breath, and nearly unconsciously, he did the same.

“You know, I have always admired that about you,” she murmured. When she turned back to him, she looked resigned. Vorik watched Giana approach him with uncertain steps, punctuated by her words, but he made no motion to move himself. “Your attention to detail… Your sense of duty… You always do what you need to do. You’ve got conviction. That’s, like, the one thing I _super_ lack.”

He could not quite tell if her compliments were genuine or brought on by the sickness. Giana often said glowing things about him, though never quite so forward and never without a single smile or a joke. This time, her words, even the cadence of her voice, sounded different.

When he spoke, his mouth felt dry. _Strange._ “If you lack conviction, simply taking the first step will often lock you in to your course.”

“But how do I know if I’m taking the _right_ first step, oh, All-Knowing-One?” Giana asked in a near whine, stopping just short of him. Vorik thought that she was closer than she might have been on another occasion—or perhaps, he, himself, was overthinking. After all, it wasn’t wholly unusual for him to be able to pick out the floral scent of her hair or the vaguely sweet smell of her skin, but just now—being so sleepless, of course—these things were overwhelming him.

Perhaps he was being overly critical, but there was no mistaking the uptick in his heartbeat.

“You do not,” he admitted to her upturned face, “but through sound logic, several potential paths can be eliminated. And from there, you can make a better-informed choice from the paths left to you.”

“Logic,” Giana repeated breathlessly.

Vorik nodded.

“But…you know that I’m not very logical.”

“I do.”

“Then…what can _I_ do?”

Vorik got the sudden sense that she was leading him towards something. What, exactly, he could not see yet, but he answered cautiously, “You have been my friend for some time. I have shown you how to meditate and breathe and guided you in logical thought. These are all Vulcan ways. You are Human. Surely, you can answer for yourself using my tools better than how I might counsel you.”

Slowly, Giana nodded, never taking her eyes from his. Vorik might have been unnerved because it was so unlike her…if he was not so enraptured by this moment himself.

“You would counsel logic. But I’d want to listen to my heart. Why can’t I do both…? I think… I already know what I have to do.” She took another step closer, and Vorik’s heart all but leapt to his throat.

He _should_ contact Lieutenant Tuvok. This should have been the end of his experiment. It was very clear that Giana was in no fit state to—

The woman closed what little distance there was between them before Vorik could react. She reached up and clasped his face between her hands. The shock of heat froze him in place, and a moment later, she pressed her lips to his. Vorik was so taken aback that his whole brain wiped blank. Then, all at once, sensation rushed back to him.

Her lips were hot, and his skin tingled where they touched, where her nose just barely brushed against his cheek. Her fingers left a trail of sensation as they tangled in his hair and brushed the shell of his ear. Giana’s touch set him aflame. Hotter than the suns that he could remember back home. Like being pressed up again the red sands. A flood of her thoughts crashed into his own: relief and bliss and anxiety. But he could hardly sort hers from his. All he truly knew was her lips. Soft. Gently moving against his own in a very Human kiss that he found himself returning. It was the kind that he only allowed himself to dream of in the complete darkness of his quarters in the dead of night.

It was everything that he had imagined it would be. Perhaps more. She tasted sweet and addicting, and he wanted nothing more than to stay this way. To keep tasting her and to wrap himself within her forever. If this was the illness that had ravaged the crew, then perhaps now he knew why everyone had succumbed.

But then…

Her hands moved, eased around his neck, and pulled him further down into her. She submerged him in the heat of her body pressed against his. He could have drowned here. He wanted to. Vorik could have easily stayed.

But…

But the _ship_. The _warp core_. The _rest_ of the crew. He was one of three—now only two—who could be strong enough to withstand the emotional undoing of the sickness that had rocked Voyager.

Vorik could not stay. He could not have her. He could not even pretend to, no matter how badly he wished to.

His hand stroked up her back. How badly he had wanted all of this. How easily he could believe that she craved him too. In this moment, he could feel it. Her need wrapped around his in his mind. Giana was his, here. She could be…

But not like this. He didn’t want her like this.

His fingers found them. The nerve pressure points at the base of her neck. Vorik’s brows knit together. He kissed her back as though she would hear every hope that he had—and squeezed.

Giana broke the kiss with a gasp. She pulled away from him, her eyes widening for a moment…and then Vorik caught her before she dropped to the floor, unconscious.

He allowed himself a moment of weakness. He drew a long and shaky breath. He closed his eyes and hung his head.

All the things that could have been. All the things he dreamed of—

But she was sick. She wasn’t really giving herself to him.

_She was sick._

He blinked his eyes open and shook his head.

Something shining on the tabletop caught Vorik’s gaze.

_Several_ shimmering flowers glinted there, all spilling golden pollen onto the clear plastic of the table. They must have been hidden under Giana’s uniform when he entered. Vorik recognized them now to be of the same variety that Neelix had brought to Kes, the same sample now sitting in the Doctor’s office in the sickbay.

He had _no_ idea that there were so many of them on board.

And how had they all found their way into Giana’s quarters?

With his free hand, Vorik tapped his communicator badge. “Vorik to Sick Bay.”

“Yes, Ensign. What is it?” came the Doctor’s voice.

“Crewman Giana has fallen ill. There are eight more cuttings of the same silver flower that—”

“Ah, yes,” the Doctor interrupted, “I assumed as much. After I analyzed the possible transmission paths, I identified Kes and Neelix as the most likely culprits. I sent Crewman Giana to Hydroponics to confirm and to bring me all the samples of that particular flower that she could find. While regrettable that she became infected, it appears, evidently, that I was correct.”

Vorik glanced between Giana’s serene face and the flowers in question. “Evidently,” he repeated.

“Leave the crewman. Bring me the flowers. This is a promising lead. My estimates are that we should have our entire crew back within forty-eight hours. And, Ensign?”

“Yes?”

“Try not to touch the stamens, please. I believe I will need all the pollen I can get my hands on. Er. Metaphorically speaking.”

He arched his eyebrow at the scattering of golden pollen across the table and wondered if he should try and collect it all.

Forty-eight hours. He would have to make it another forty-eight hours.

But first…

After cutting the line of communication, Vorik bent and wrapped his other arm beneath Giana’s legs, lifting her up easily. He carried her, Human bridal style, into her bedroom (where the worst of the mess had been hiding from view, apparently) and picked his way over her things towards her bed.

She sighed softly as he laid her out and eased his arms out from beneath her.

He allowed himself a brief moment to observe her smooth breathing and ensure that she would be all right. The angle on his nerve pinch had not been ideal, but with some of that “luck” that she was always so fond of wishing upon others, the worst she might have when she awoke was a headache. Vorik would have to apologize once she was cured.

His fingers ghosted over his lips.

How much he had to apologize for, remained to be seen.

* * *

“Computer, resume. When I arrived at her quarters, she was displaying symptoms, but not of the same nature as the rest of the crew. Further inquiries led me to believe that she had become afflicted with a different illness from the rest of the crew, but as she remained mostly in control of herself and with our limited options, I was inclined to overlook it. However, Crewman Moreno proved herself to be in a similar state as the other Humans when she—”

The door to his quarters chimed, surprising him. He bade the Computer pause once more and called for his mysterious visitor to enter.

Vorik was even more surprised when Giana poked her head into his room. Blinking, he stood a little too awkwardly. He pushed the chair away with the back of his knees and stumbled to regain his feet. He hoped she wouldn’t notice.

“Giana. What are you—”

“Hi, Vorik, I just—”

His mouth snapped shut, but she laughed under her breath.

He tilted his head and wondered if this was a regular laugh or one that was still under the influence. H wanted to believe that she sounded like her normal self.

“You go first,” she said softly.

“What are you doing here? It was my understanding that the Doctor would not fully cure the crew compliment for another thirty-seven hours.”

She shrugged and tapped the doorframe. “Guess I got better quicker because I wasn’t sick as long?”

_Plausible_ , Vorik supposed, _but still suspect_.

“D-Do you think I could come in?” Giana asked, looking uncomfortable. She met his gaze for a second and then looked away immediately. “I, um. I think we need to talk.”

The first vestiges of fear gripped his insides. Vorik sat with it for a brief moment, took a deep breath through his nose, and then nodded. “Yes. I believe that we do.”


End file.
